The Spirit of Hope
a sermon based on Romans 8:22-27
by Rev. Rick Thompson

            Did you hear how many times St. Paul used the word “hope” in our second reading today?  Four times, and once more in the verses just preceeding, St. Paul uses that word “hope”.  He seems to think it’s a big word, an important word.

            I think Paul knows us.  I think Paul knows how much we want and need to have a reason to keep on living, something to look forward to, a purpose that keeps us pressing forward, pressing on.

            “I hope I win the lottery!” Mark exclaims, wishing he could get out of debt, leave his dead-end job, take a luxurious vacation, and guarantee his family a comfortable future.

            Rachel wants a long-term relationship: “I hope I meet the man I want to spend the rest of my life with,” she laments, discouraged by the prospects so far.

     “I hope I finally break par!” Alex says, pleading with the gods of golf to smile upon him for once.

Hope.  We long for a better future.  Our words express our deep yearning.  We want desperately to live with hope.

But do we?

Isn’t the world, when we get right down to it, a pretty hopeless place?

Only a few people win the lottery.  The rest lose—and some who gamble lose large sums of money.

That relationship Rachel wants—the odds of her finding a one that will be completely satisfying—they’re not good.

And Alex’s golf game?  How many golfers break par, really?  And even then, are they satisfied?

I play golf; I know the answer to that one!

And that’s only the beginning.  Every day, we turn on the news and hear of violent crime and ethnic cleansing and abused children and mistreated animals.  Every day we hear of what Paul calls the futility of our existence.

There are the wars that kill and maim soldiers and citizens alike.  There is the greed that hurts those who have not and enriches those who already have too much.  There is the disregard for the created world, as humans pollute it, litter it, and rape it to satisfy our own wants.  Is it any wonder Paul writes that “all creation has been groaning in labor pains until now?”  Yes, Paul knows well the tragic story in Genesis 3, where the humans and the creation are cursed because of our disobedience to God.  As a result, all of it—human and non-human—lives in futility.

There doesn’t seem to be a whole lot of reason to hope—at least, to hope in anything more than fulfilling our fleeting wishes.

“Over at last,” Melissa Gregory thought to herself.  That’s all she could think about.  The funeral was finished, and she was home, and weary—bone weary.  Carl, her husband, was safely tucked into his grave.  How had she endured the year of his agony?

Carl had worked hard on the railroad, earned pretty good money.  Melissa worked outside the home part-time, and volunteered in the church office.  The two grown Gregory children had been home from out of town often as Carl was dying, to show their love and support for their parents. And Melissa was grateful for the time they’d had together before Carl’s death.  But now, they were back home with their own families.

Carl’s cancer had grown fast.  He’s had his annual physicals, but still the cancer showed up.  Dr. Bean, who really liked Carl, was visibly upset when he called Carl in to give him the news.  “We’d better get to work to treat it right away!” Dr. Bean recommended—and they did.  But no treatment helped, and Carl suffered a lot, and Melissa, who went with Carl wherever the doctors sent him, could only think of it as a year of hell.  And now that hell was over, and the funeral was over.  Melissa missed Carl, and she missed her children, and it was awfully tough to come home to an empty house.

Melissa wondered what new kind of hell awaited her now?

Melissa wandered around the house, aimless, not knowing what to do.  It was if she was lost in the caverns of her own home.  Several times she tried to pray.  It was the same thing each time; she couldn’t find the words.  She didn’t know what to say to God.  She could only sigh and groan.  Words wouldn’t come.  But groans came.  And sighs came.  Groans and sighs poured forth from the innermost depths of Melissa’s being.  Gut-wrenching groans.  Bone-shaking sighs.  That’s all she had for God now.  It was as if she had forgotten how to pray.

At the end of her murmuring lament she trudged off to bed.  She would be alone there, too.  And as she cast herself down on her pillow she heard a familiar sound.

What was it?  The first fresh breath of spring blew gently through the bedroom window kissing her aching body with a hint—just a hint—of new life.[i]

And in this reading about the futility of creation, Paul isn’t wanting to leave us there, hopeless.  He’s also talking about breath—the breath of God—the Holy Spirit, poured out upon the church at the first Christian Pentecost.  He’s reminding us that, in that Spirit—the Spirit which joins us and keeps us connected to the risen Christ—we experience what Melissa experienced in the depths of her sadness and grief: a breath of new life!

The Holy Spirit, Paul insists, is the Spirit of hope—genuine, solid hope.

Hope that comes in and through Christ.  Hope that is rooted in the One who was put to death for our sins, and raised so that we can be right with God.  Hope that is rooted in the One named Jesus, whose gives life abundant, even life eternal.  Hope that, as one writer puts it, consists in “abiding confidence and trust in God, rooted in personal allegiance to God.”

“Abiding confidence and trust…rooted in personal allegiance.”

That sounds like a lot more solid hope than winning the lottery, or finding the perfect person who will never disappoint, or finally mastering the game of golf.

The hope we receive from the Spirit of God is hope that knows—KNOWS WITH ABSOLUTE CERTAINTY—that God has our future and the future of all creation in God’s strong and good hands!

Hope.  That’s what the Holy Spirit gives us.  Hope.  Hope that all people will be redeemed, set free from decay and death.  Hope that even all creation will be liberated from its bondage through the liberation of humanity.  Hope.  Sure and certain hope.

And that’s not wishful thinking.  It’s a guarantee!  Paul writes of the Spirit as the “first fruits” of God’s promises: we have the down payment on God’s fulfillment, and it’s enough.  It’s enough to convince us that God will give all the fullness of God’s eternal kingdom to us and to all creation!

THAT’S quite a guarantee!

It’s enough to give us courage and motivation to live with hope and patience.  It’s enough to urge new Christians to receive the gifts and blessings of baptism.  It’s enough to invite new members to unite with God’s church, to enter into the common journey of followers of Jesus.  It’s enough to give abiding confidence—certainty that God will do exactly what God promises to do.  And it will be good. It is good!

Hope.  The Spirit of God makes it possible for us to live in hope.  In hope, we tell the story of Jesus.  In hope, we live the story of Jesus.  In hope, we invite others to hear the story and live the story—and it is good!  In hope, we care for this God-created world—a world forsaken by humans, but created, cared for, and loved by God.

We’ve been given the Holy Spirit, the breath of God—and it’s a Spirit of hope!

Confidence.  Trust.  Assured that we’re part of God’s promised future. Hope. All because of Christ.  All because God in Christ pours out the Holy Spirit.

So NOW we can live with the Spirit of hope!

Thanks be to God! 

AMEN!